


Wanted Russian

by Halane



Series: Aim for the Moon [2]
Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Character's Name Spelled as Viktor, Chris in fluffy sweaters is my aesthetic, Drunkenness, Friendship, Gen, Instagram, Mentions of Sex, Sharing a Bed, Viktor is charming enough to get away with pretty much anything, fuckbuddies to friends
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-03
Updated: 2017-01-03
Packaged: 2018-09-14 12:22:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,881
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9181417
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Halane/pseuds/Halane
Summary: The story of Chris' first Instagram picture.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Hi!
> 
> I kept writing and this came out. I have no idea what I'm doing, but I hope you like it. Chris in fluffy sweaters and glasses will be the end of me @@
> 
> Enjoy! =)

 

Chris smiled at the sight of a completely wasted Viktor Nikiforov skinny dipping in the pool of the hotel in Paris during winter at four in the morning with no clothes nearby. Viktor was just laying there on the water, shining under the moonlight, probably about to pass out, which is why Chris kept staring at him. That and the fact that he was quite a pretty picture, silvery hair floating around his fit naked body. He was also probably freezing. Chris was, even though he was wearing a fluffy sweater and long pyjama trousers. His phone had woken him up, forgotten book on his chest, with a somehow cryptic message (“VIKTOR: uuupp?? jesssuis at pooool com join”). It was probably an invitation, but Chris chuckled and sighed and went up to help get Viktor to bed. He could certainly drink vodka like water, Chris knew that now that they had shared a few bottles in the privacy of his room after a particularly boring banquet at the end of the last season.

'You’re going to freeze to death, Lune.’

Viktor’s lips curved in a lazy smile, and he kicked the water gracefully to get closer to the edge of the pool on which Chris was now sitting with a hotel robe in hand.

‘I’m Russian and an ice-skater made of ice.’

His words were slurred and his eyes bright and unfocused. Chris reached for Viktor’s hair, almost expecting it to dissolve in the water as if it was liquid silver.

‘How’s your ankle?’

‘Swollen as your pride.’

The words hurt. Viktor could be nasty and alcohol did not help. 

‘You have enough gold. Don’t be greedy. I deserve it, you know,’ he added in a whisper.

Water waves formed on the pool as Viktor stopped his floating to stare directly at him, playful and kind of irresistible.  

‘Dive in with me, Chris!’

‘After that low blow? Keep dreaming.’

Viktor gasped in fake offense and pretended to drown, making Chris chuckle in spite of himself. Damn.

‘Come out. I’ll get you warm, you stupid Russian. You’re going to pass out in the pool and die and who would keep things interesting then?’

It took him a few tries to manage the stairs of the pool, and maybe if he had not taken that jab at him Chris would have helped so that his ankle did not get worse, but as it was, he thought he kind of deserved it and took his phone out to take a few pictures of the uncoordinated and lame jumping stair-climbing before getting closer to help him stand and hand him the robe. 

‘You’re no fun today,’ Viktor said a bit too loud in his ear, swaying from the combination of the injury and the alcohol.

Chris pinched his tight ass.

‘I’m plenty of fun, you’re just too wasted to notice.’

‘I’m not. When did you start wearing glasses?’

Chris frowned and touched his face. He had forgotten that he was wearing those. He only wore his glasses when he was alone, enjoying a book or wasting time in his computer. 

Viktor assessed him and then offered him a huge drunk smile.

‘You look nerdy.’

Chris laughed as he directed him to the elevator.

‘I’m not always partying, you know.’

‘Of course I know. We are always training.’ Viktor’s hair soaked him when he laid his head on his shoulder, but Chris didn’t really care. ‘Well, not  _ always _ .’ He tried to sound sexy, but ruined it with a giggle that sounded too ridiculous. ‘Oh fuck, I am drunk.’

‘You are not even a little sorry, though.’

Viktor chuckled again and made a bee-line to Chris’ bed, throwing himself face down on it. Chris sat next to his legs and reached for his ankle to examine it. The cold had done it some good. Typical of Viktor, to get drunk and risk pneumonia to apply cold to his ankle instead of just reaching for some ice. 

‘See? It’s better now.’ He mumbled looking at Chris with a proud smirk. 

‘You’re wetting my bed in the wrong way there.’

‘I’ll do it right if you’re good, gold medalist.’

Chris smirked back and took the gold out of his sweater, getting closer so that Viktor could touch it. 

 

* * *

 

Viktor grabbed the gold medal that Chris was offering him. It made his frozen fingers tickle.

‘Miss it, Nikiforov?’

‘I’ll get another one.’ 

‘We’ll see about that.’

Chris was blurry around the edges as if Viktor was the one needing glasses, so he sat up and took them from his face to try them on. It made him dizzy and he laughed because Chris looked enhanced and wavy. He was different now, hair a bit darker, more honey than gold, his curls shorter, his body fully grown, but his eyes were still loving and huge, bigger because of the glasses Viktor was wearing, and his hands were still caring as he wrapped his hair in a discarded t-shirt to dry it off a little. His fluffy sweater looked like hot chocolate, warmer than the bed, and winter cold was finally hitting Viktor hard, so he let himself fall on the softness and sigh.

‘Warm.’

He closed his eyes ready to pass out there and then, but Chris’ chest rumbled and he was pushed back.

‘Well, you’re not. You’re like ice right now and I'm in my time off. Come on, get under the blankets.’

Viktor did as he was asked and sighed with pleasure. It was nice knowing that someone outside of his team cared enough to actually go get him when he was making a fool out of himself just because he had been stupid enough to get hurt during practice and end up getting bronze because of that. Viktor wondered how Chris never resented him for always winning when he was also very talented, just not enough to beat him in a fair competition, but apparently he didn’t. Or at least it didn’t prevent him from being kind to him. Behind the lame lines and the flirty ways, Chris was steady and reliable and just good. If you paid attention (and Viktor had been paying attention since they had slept together that first time two years ago), he was as warm and cozy as his fluffy sweater and his stupidly old-fashioned glasses. He wondered if he should say thank you or tell him that he knew now, but it sounded silly.

‘Get coffee if you wake up first.’

 

* * *

 

Chris laughed at the barely whispered order with a mental “Yes, your majesty”, recovered his glasses and rolled his friend over to make room for himself. He winced as he got into bed, noticing that the sheets were wet because of Viktor’s hair. He should have dried it off before letting him pass out. It was too late for that now, or for finishing his book— he had to practice his exhibition routine in the morning, so he removed his sweater and turned the lamp off. In the darkness, he could hear Viktor snoring softly, something he only did when he was drunk, apparently. When he was not, it was hard to tell if he was breathing at all, so Chris found the sound almost comforting, mostly because the Russian was actually freezing today and he looked dead to the world.  

He smiled at his handsome face. It had been a few competitions since they had last had sex, but he was ok with that. Not that the sex wasn’t great, but he felt like they were truly friends now, like Viktor had got to know him, and he had grown fond of him too, the way he was such a genius but also just a complete fool unable to remember anything unrelated to skating unless it was convenient for him to do so. He hated how blunt and insensitive Viktor could be, but in a way it made him trust him because he would not lie to him. Chris could take it. And aloof as Viktor was, he trusted Chris enough to text him in the middle of the night to get his drunk ass to bed instead of going to one of his teammates, which was kind of sweet in its own twisted way. Chris was not very sentimental and he did not usually spend the night with people he was not going to make love to, but he had to admit this was kind of nice. 

He woke up to the sight of Viktor examining his ankle in the sofa, coffee cup empty on the table next to it. He was serious and pensive until he noticed that Chris was looking, then he beamed at him with his practiced smile just a bit more natural than it was for the cameras.

‘Chris!’

‘Hey there.’ He sat up yawning and driving a hand through what was left of his unruly curls. He hated when this happened. It took him a while to fully wake up, and Viktor was so bright in the mornings he felt tired all over just by sensing his energy in the room.

‘My ankle looks good. I should probably skip the exhibition just in case, but the cold worked.’

‘What time is it?’ He fumbled looking for his phone, but Viktor got his first.

‘Just seven.’

Chris groaned and fell back on the bed. How Viktor was never hangover was a mystery, probably weird Russian genetics. He grazed his half-hard cock and considered asking Viktor to do something about that, but decided against it. He was too grumpy and Viktor’s ankle needed all the rest it could get if he wanted to finish the season with his usual results. He gave himself a few experimental strokes, listening to the TV, but he was not feeling it, so he gave up with a sigh and heard Viktor laughing. He heard a lot of that lately. He had a nice laugh, but Chris was not in the mood for it right now.

‘You’re so grumpy in the mornings, Chris.’

‘Well, I got your hot ass here last night for nothing but a bed soaked for all the wrong reasons and you didn’t even order coffee for me.’

‘I did.’ Viktor pointed to another empty cup, this one sitting on the bedside table next to Chris. ‘I just drank it while I was distracted looking for this.’ He tugged at the sweater he was wearing now, the one Chris had taken off last night.

Chris huffed, sulking again.

‘Of course you did. Get me another one, please. And you are not taking my sweater.’

When he got a text a few days later from Russia with a picture of Viktor wearing the sweater while cuddling with his dog, he decided that it was probably time to accept the invitation he had been sent to open that Instagram account and he uploaded that picture first. ‘Wanted Russian stole my sweater~’ he wrote, and then he sent an invitation to Viktor.

Ten minutes later, Viktor liked it, set it as his profile picture and commented on it: ‘You stole my gold, so it was only fair ;)’. 

This time it was a joke and Chris laughed as notifications went crazy. He liked to give a good show, and so did Viktor. 


End file.
